


Bonded

by silentxsoul



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A little humor thrown in, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Compliant through OoTP, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Not Epilogue Compliant, Soul Bond, Two Shot, kind of freeform, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:21:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25390786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentxsoul/pseuds/silentxsoul
Summary: "That’ll be a great morning conversation. How am I? Swell--Dolohov’s curse is back, let me just grab some bangers and pop over to Pomphrey and settle into my deathbed. Don’t forget I look dreadful in black and I’d prefer a bouquet of wildflowers."Scratch that, just set me on fire and send me out to sea in some twisted Viking funeral.""You’re a bloody ray of sunshine, you know that? Fucking hell."---Or rather the soulbond AU no one really needed, but it's here anyway.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Charlie Weasley
Comments: 26
Kudos: 369
Collections: Wizarding World Works





	1. 00

**Author's Note:**

> Canon-divergent beginning at Hermione's 17th birthday and follows through the end of the war. Definitely EWE, and Fred lives (this has nothing to do with the plot as much as it's my protest at an un-necessary death). The timeline of the war is a bit tweaked, though there's nothing major changed from the canon series of events. Also I'm adopting a few movie canon elements because why not go all in, eh?
> 
> It's an angsty ride (I've been in a mood for months, sorry), but I think I did good to add in some humor here and there to lighten it up. Maybe not, but I tried?
> 
> I just want to say on the front end that I've seen far too many tik tok's about POV soulmate AU's and spend way too much on tumblr getting lost in an endless sea of rare-pair shipping, so consider this my attempt to add to a rare pairing because I can't be bothered to finish editing the other HG/CW fic I'm writing. That's pushing 50K and is on chapter 11, maybe 12 once I'm done editing. I wanted to expand more on the bond in this, but tbh I kept getting too far from the story so I pulled it back a bit. This isn't like anything I've ever written before, so let me know how trash it is. 
> 
> If you've made it this far bless you, and on with the story. 
> 
> Oh, and I definitely don't own HP. If I did this fandom wouldn't have had to endure any trans-phobic bullshit.

She’d been in the common room for hours, hunched at the table nearest the fire place with a mound of books stacked neatly on the floor beside her. Parchment was littered across the table top as the fire dimmed, making it harder to make out the words as her hand scratched across the pages. Sighing she checked the watch her parents had sent her earlier in the week—an early gift for her seventeenth birthday—swearing lightly when the time read just after 02:00. Her eyes flitted towards the staircase that led to her room, and silently she wondered if it was even worth the few hours she’d scrape together.

It was futile, she knew, to avoid sleep. The end result would be her running herself ragged, feeling pulled in a thousand different ways while trying to solve the inevitable mystery that would surround her best friend this year. She’d burn out, have a few rows with the boys, cry herself to sleep, have a few nightmares, and make up. Usually all in a bout a two-day span.

It was the same rinse and repeat cycle, but she still found herself avoiding it even after all these years.

A year ago she’d be wearing herself thin because of her studies and keeping her best friend from going insane as Voldemort continued to tap into his mind, in addition to the illegal defense club and toeing a fine line of illegalities and blatant disregard for the official Ministry decrees.

It was incredible how much could change in such a short time, she mused. Now she was avoiding sleep because of what it brought. The nightmares, the flashbacks. Panic gripping her in the middle of the night as she found herself in the Ministry once more. 

Sometimes she woke thinking she was still in the Hospital Wing with her ribs searing in pain.

Sometimes she didn’t wake at all and instead found herself in a warped afterlife where she felt hunted—running from the invisible predator, screaming for help. She could hear them in the distance, feet pounding as the heat from the invisible spell fire licked her skin.

Sometimes she watched her friends die, separated from her body like some twisted spirit.

Another sigh escaped her lips as she waved a wand over the parchment, sending it in a stack before it rolled itself into a loose scroll. Another wave and the scroll was in her bag along with the ink well and quill she’d been using. Gently she bent down and moved to pick up the stack of books, silently wishing herself a happy birthday.

_Happy bloody birthday, let’s not spend it dwelling on the war, yeah?_

**_It’s not my birthday_. **

She yelped and dropped the stack of books, wand extended. Her heart was beating as she took in her surroundings, eyes wildly looking for the man who’d spoke. Blinking, she felt her breath grow ragged as she realized she was alone in the common room. Chalking it up to sleep deprivation she gathered her books and quickly made her way up the stairs to her dorm. She took extra care not to make any noise as she entered the room, not wanting to wake her dorm mates and face the series of questions they’d no doubt fire at her.

She climbed into her bed and pulled the curtains closed, hastily throwing up a silencing charm before shrugging her robes off. She tossed them to the end of the bed, resolving to hang them properly when she woke in a few hours. She set the alarm on her wand and laid her head back onto her pillow, silently praying to any God that listened that she’d have a nightmare free night. If the slight unease in her chest was any indication, she was in for a hell of a nightmare.

\---

It was a fitful sleep, but for once it wasn’t the nightmares that woke her.

It was a two-part awakening, the first part coming at just past 05:00 if her half-squint had read her watch correctly. The same male voice as before echoed through her dream, pulling her from the floors of the Ministry.

**_Merlin’s hairy—FUCKING—DAMN IT!_ **

**_SON OF –_ **

She woke with a start, eyes darting around her bed while she fumbled for her wand. There was a tightness in her chest, a mix of anger and anxiety at the sudden awakening. The sudden movement sent a wave of pain through her left arm. She let out a yelp and a hiss as the pain seared through her skin as if it were on fire. Quickly she pulled off the blouse she’d slept in, gasping at the angry pink skin that had blistered on her forearm.

Quietly she opened the edge of her curtains and grabbed the tiny beaded bag she’d been experimenting with. She reached in with her good hand, blindly grasping for the tiny tub of salve. Her eyes were watering at the pain—

**_MOTHER FUCKER!_ **

She winced as the pain in her arm met the pain that coursed through head.

Finally she felt her hand grasp the tiny tub. She quickly pulled the top off and liberally applied the salve to her blistered skin, whimpering at the cooling relief that sent a shiver down her arm.

She wondered if the curse Dolohov hit her with was finally coming to collect her.

 _Lovely way to go,_ she mused. _Death months later thanks to Dolohov’s curse. It’s not enough that the prick nearly killed me once, oh no. How’s about round two?_

_Happy seventeenth, just bloody fantastic._

**_What—_ **

She sighed at the voice, noticing for the first time that it was oddly familiar. It was distorted, as if she were hearing it through water, but the cadence and low, gruff words tickled the back of her mind. She’d heard it before, if only she could place it…

**_Oh sodding hell._ **

This time the voice came much more gently, for which she was grateful. If she were going insane she’d rather the voice be calm.

Gently she wiped the salve from her skin and muttered a quiet _“_ Sana” and waved her wand over the skin, hoping the basic healing spell would do the trick. She was relieved the see the top layer of her skin ripple in a wave as the outer layer of her skin smoothed itself over. If she were lucky the skin would be completely healed by breakfast, keeping her from any uncomfortable conversations.

_That’ll be a great morning conversation. How am I? Swell--Dolohov’s curse is back, let me just grab some bangers and pop over to Pomphrey and settle into my deathbed. Don’t forget I look dreadful in black and I’d prefer a bouquet of wildflowers._

_Scratch that, just set me on fire and send me out to sea in some twisted Viking funeral._

**_You’re a bloody ray of sunshine, you know that? Fucking hell._ **

The reply startled her. She hadn’t figured that going insane would mean the voice would bark back at her. Realizing this was her reality now, she decided she might as well enjoy what little sanity she had left and make it amusing.

_Says the prat that woke me._

**_I didn’t intend to get burned—_ **

_Funny, neither did I._

There was a pause and she felt satisfied at having shut up the voice. There was a bit of smugness as she crossed her arms, noting with a twisted satisfaction that she’d successfully shut up her own mind with her incessant need to have the last word.

**_Only I’d wait literal years for this damn soul bond to mature and in turn I’d get a sarcastic twit. Brilliant._ **

There was an odd sensation in her chest, almost like the pluck of annoyance she got any time Ron would shovel food in his mouth and attempt to hold a conversation. The frown she’d adopted at the sudden onset of annoyance slipped as the words finally registered in her mind.

For the second time that morning she was glad for the silencing charm she’d put on her bed, for she’d swore loudly as the pieces came together in her head. Part of her was relieved that Dolohov’s curse wasn’t coming to collect her, but there was a bigger part of her that was terrified at her soul bond maturing.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been prepared for it, but it was common for witches and wizards to wake on the morning of their seventeenth birthday unchanged. They’d had a dozen or so classes throughout her time at Hogwarts covering the bonds, and she knew that soul magic was ancient and complex. Soul bonds didn’t mature until both recipients matured. Being the oldest in all of her classes, she’d just assumed that she wouldn’t notice a change right away.

She wasn’t even sure she was ready to have a soul bond, despite what the magic had said.

From the lectures with Binns she knew that soul bonds took various forms, but often it was a simple thrumming of magic in the bonded. According to him the bond manifested itself in the chest of each person, passing along the shared bond magic and the emotions of the bonded.

Rarely there were instances of a physical bond—just like the bloody burn on her arm, she mused—and even more rarely was the mind connection.

She definitely wasn’t ready for this rare of a bond.

**_You’ll want a topical burn salve, and a quick—_ **

_I appreciate the gesture but I’ve got it handled already,_ she interrupted him lightly. _Should be cleared by breakfast._

She fell back onto her pillow and stared at the ceiling while she tried to stop her heart from racing her mind. The magic of the bond began to tingle, buzzing through her chest and into her hands. With a blink she steadied her breath and shook her hands in an attempt to expel the excess energy.

**_I’ve really bollocksed this up, haven’t I?_ **

_Not unless you were intentionally trying to get burnt._

**_Occupational hazard I’m afraid, though I don’t ever intend on actually getting hurt. It just seems to happen._ **

She felt a laugh in her chest, reminding her of what Harry had said about trouble seeming to find him. The bond in her chest warmed as she felt his return of the laughter.

**_I’ll be careful, next time. I promise._ **

_I wish I could say the same—I’ve got a habit of trouble finding me._

She didn’t elaborate that she was constantly on the front line against Voldemort, unsure if she should divulge too much to the strange man just yet. Her past was rather complicated it didn’t take a Seer to be able to predict she’d be in a constant state of mortal peril until Harry killed Voldemort.

A rare, complicated soul bond would only make things messier.

**_Let me pick your brain later. Get some sleep if it’s still early, though from the context clues I’m going to guess you’re still in school? Must only be after 05:00 then._ **

_Yes, but I don’t sleep much anymore. I’m up around now anyway._ It was a lie, but she didn’t want him to feel bad for waking her. Besides, she reasoned that her time in the dream version of the Ministry would have woken her soon anyway.

**_I’ll bug you around dinner then, yeah?_ **

Feeling rather bold she giggled, _It’s a date._

She felt his appreciation for the banter through their bond as she tossed the covers from her body and set towards the bathroom to get ready for the day.

\---

Ginny noticed immediately that something was different with her that morning. She’d barely served herself toast before the red head shot her an inquisitive look from across the table. The youngest Weasley had given her an emphatic ‘happy birthday’ before staring pointedly at her, waiting for an explanation. With a sigh Hermione grabbed her toast and pointed towards the hall, not wanting to talk about it in the open.

Ginny took one last bite of the bacon her plate and grabbed her bag, following her friend out the door of the Great Hall and into a small alcove just inside the Entrance Hall. Hermione finished the toast and dusted her hands off while she waited on Ginny to settle in.

“Your eyes.” Ginny stated simply once she’d squeezed into the alcove.

“My eyes?” Hermione furrowed her brows, wondering if she’d wondered into some Wheeze’s product without noticing.

“They’ve got flecks of blue—honestly its more than flecks, it’s like a big swirl of the color.”

Hermione blinked and pulled a compact out of her bag, flicking it open and holding it at eye level. She let out a gasp when she saw the blue marbled in with her usual brown, “Bugger me!”

Across from her the other witch’s eyebrows arched.

“Erm,” Hemione said sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“Honestly I’ve heard more colorful words from my own mouth,” Ginny said with a wave of her hand. “I’m just surprised to hear it from yours.”

“That makes two of us,” She muttered as she placed the compact back in her bag. There was a flash of amusement in her chest, and briefly she wondered if he’d felt her embarrassment or knew of the exchange.

“Is it the bond?” Ginny asked eagerly. Hermione bit back a laugh, knowing how excited Ginny had been for her to finally get her bond. The young witch had gushed over it for days, peppering her with questions as the date of her birthday drew near. If they hadn’t been such good friends Hermione wouldn’t told her to bug off ages ago, but she knew that Ginny meant well.

And because she knew that Ginny was hoping that focusing on Hermione’s bond would help take her mind off the failed attempts at moving on from Harry. 

Hermione nodded with a shy smile, “I suppose so. Can you keep a secret?”

To her surprise Ginny laughed. “Hermione, I grew up with six over-protective twats. I taught myself to fly in the dead of night when I was seven—I’d sneak out and steal their brooms from the shed. Not a soul knows that.”

It was Hermione’s turns for her eyebrows to arch, “ _Seven!_ ”

“That’s what you took from that?” Ginny bit back in amusement.

A blush colored her cheeks, “Right. Sorry. I’m impressed, honestly. And a little terrified.”

Ginny shrugged at her, “I have so much dirt on the lot of them too, they’ll never be too cross with me if they ever found out.”

“Blackmail? Between you and the Twins that must be a family trait,” Hermione muttered with a grin. She gently pulled back the sleeve of her robe to reveal the mostly healed burn on her arm.

Ginny bit back the yelp in surprise, eyes bulging. “How’d you manage that?”

“ _I_ didn’t—he did. Bloody git woke me at 05:00 this morning ranting. When I finally realized I wasn’t being attacked I noticed the pain in my arm. I had to heal this up half asleep.”

“For what it’s worth you did a good job,” Ginny offered. “How’d he manage it?”

Hermione shrugged, “I’m not sure honestly. Said it was an occupational hazard and promised not to do it again.”

“Do you know who it is?”

She shook her head, face falling. “Not yet. We’re going to talk more after dinner.”

Truthfully Hermione was conflicted. For years she looked forward to finding her bond—mostly. The idea of an ancient magic tying her with someone was daunting, but the small hopeless romantic in her loved the idea. It was the one bit of girly gossip she would divulge in with her dormmates, and she’d be lying if she didn’t have an idealized vision of what the bond would mean. Perhaps it was the muggle fairy tales she grew up on, but she almost expected some dramatic revelation that swept her off her feet.

If she hadn’t found herself on the cusp of a war, maybe she’d find the bond more intriguing.

Instead she felt scared, almost terrified. She didn’t know who was on the other side of the bond, and while it seemed like he was a nice bloke she couldn’t be sure he wasn’t on the opposite side of her fight.

She also knew that a bond could complicate things when Voldemort came knocking, and she knew that she had to keep her undivided attention on winning the war and keeping her friends and family safe. It was overwhelming as it was before adding a bondmate to the mix.

She wanted to embrace the bond, but at the same time she wanted to run from it.

Ginny watched her friend fur her brows and bite her lip, “What are you thinking?”

Hermione blinked slowly, “I think… I think I’m not going to tell him who I am.”

“Why?”

“We are on the cusp of war, Gin.” She said sadly. “A war targeted at me specifically because of this stupid blood purity nonsense. He said he’s been waiting a while for the bond to mature—I can’t give him hope only to have me go into hiding or di—”

“Don’t finish that thought,” Ginny warned. “You deserve happiness, especially because of the war. And you won’t be dying.”

“I wish it were that simple,” She replied miserably. “It feels like the calm before the storm, and honestly with our track record it’s only a matter of time until Voldemort makes his move. I can’t have the distraction, and I can’t put someone through that. He’s going to be in danger by my association, and I can’t risk it.”

Ginny shook her head, “I understand you, and I’ll be there for you through your decision every step, but I think you’re being too bloody noble. Leave that nonsense to you best friend.”

Hermione offered her a sad smile.

\---

She’d crawled in bed shortly after dinner that night, wishing her two best friends a good night. Neither boy tried to stop her, understanding that the dark circles under her eyes were going to catch up with her soon. Harry had a meeting with the Headmaster that night and Ron wanted to go down to the Quidditch pitch to get in some more practice. They’d parted ways after handing her two wrapped presents (books for the upcoming exams, and a fresh set of inkwells that she’d nearly bought before school started).

**_You’re exhausted. I’ll check back in on you tomorrow. Get some rest. Happy Birthday, by the way._ **

_How’d you know?_

_…_

_Don’t answer that, the bond. Yes I’m exhausted but I’m not ready to sleep yet._

**_Don’t put it off for my sake. I’ve waited a few years, another day isn’t going to hurt._ **

She wanted to tell him she was staving off sleep for the nightmares, but then thought better of it. She hadn’t unloaded that mess to her best friends, she wasn’t about to broach the topic with a stranger, bon or not.

_Honestly, I’m fine. This is my normal state of being._

**_If this is normal I think you ought to pop over to St. Mungo’s for a check up. You mentioned you didn’t sleep much, and I know for a fact you were still up when I was getting ready for my job. Then I woke you not even three hours later._ **

_So, you’re perceptive._

She could practically here the snort at her sarcasm.

**_I did manage nine OWL’s and seven NEWT’s, was recruited for a professional Quidditch team before I graduated, was the Quidditch Captain my sixth and seventh years, and was a Prefect, so I suppose you can call me perceptive._ **

_And cocky apparently._

The humor in her statement was returned through the bond.

_I nabbed ten OWL’s for what it’s worth. I’m a prefect as well—I might even make Head Girl next year if I stay._

**_Oh? Thinking about dropping out? I like a rebel._ **

She felt a smile form on her lips, _If you knew half of the things my friends and I have gotten up to over the years you might rethink wanting to like a rebel._

Especially if he ever found out about her organizing the DA, freeing an escaped prisoner, fighting a werewolf, breaking into the Ministry, or confronting a possessed teacher at age twelve by going through a gamut of tests that no adult was meant to pass. 

Though she supposed that it was really Harry that had done the confronting, as if that changed the sentiment.

_In any case, the war is on our door and at the risk of sounding conceited I’m at a higher risk of being a wartime victim than the average witch. I might not have a place here in a years’ time._

**_Muggleborn I take it? Not that it matters._ **

_Yes, a regular old mudblood around here._

There was a pulse of anger. **_You shouldn’t call yourself that._**

_That word stopped affecting me four years ago. Now it just takes the piss out of all the pricks in Slytherin who think they can lord it over me. Jokes on them when I say it first. I’m thinking about getting a tattoo of it one day, right across my forehead._

**_I’ll hook you up with my tattoo artist, he’d be thrilled to permanently mark you with a slur across your face._ **

**_That’s sarcasm, if you couldn’t tell._ **

_I read it loud and clear, don’t worry. Doesn’t change my stance on it though—they can’t hurt me worse than I can hurt myself._

_If you’d known half the things I’ve faced in my seventeen years, you’d understand. Maybe I’ll clue you in one day._

_After the war that is._

**_Planning on staying hidden from me then?_ **

She pondered it a moment, mind taking her back to the conversation she had before with Ginny.

_I wasn’t joking when I said I was high risk earlier—I…I think that it’s best to wait a bit. It’ll make more sense if I make it through the war._

**_I’ll wait as long as you need. I like a good mystery._ **

**_And you’ll make it through the war._ **

She scoffed at him, knowing that the bond would send her sentiment. Unsurprising she felt the same sensation return to her in a quick zap of magic.

_You can’t possibly know that._

**_I can, and you will._ **

**_I’ll make a game of it, ask a few questions here and there to suss you out. It’ll be fun._ **

_You aren’t mad? You aren’t going to try and talk me out of it? Tell me I’m being too paranoid?_

**_Are you?_ **

_No._

**_Then why would I be mad? You clearly feel strongly about this. Don’t forget I can feel your emotions as well as you can mine._ **

She felt the appreciation slip though the bond, _It’s just a lot, at least right now. If it weren’t or the war—_

**_We’ve got a lifetime, get some rest. And I better not catch you up when I’m getting ready for work._ **

_Yes dad._

**_Wench._ **

_Prat._

\---

Their conversations grew in frequency, though it was a bit unpredictable when he’d get a chance to drop in on her. She knew his job was intense and required a lot of late nights, sometimes even going days without sleep. Briefly she wondered if he were an Auror, in which case she resolved to always let him initiate the conversation. She also considered several other professions, all of which had scenarios where an unexpected conversation would be hazardous to him.

Her schedule was more predictable with her being in school (something she liked to tease him about once she realized he was rather sensitive about being seen as a cradle robber). In truth an age difference didn’t bother her much, not after her brief fling with Viktor (if you could even call it that). It also helped that her mother was five years older than her father, so she could handle a few years.

 _Unless your Snape’s age_ , she’d admitted once before asking if he were the potions master, which had sent him sputtering, much to her satisfaction.

In her free time she’d taken to reading up on soul bonds in an effort to make up for all the lost time she’d spent ignoring the inevitable (she mentally kicked herself constantly for relying on Binns’ lectures on the subject as her only means of preparation). One thing she’d discovered about soul-bonds was that they weren’t necessarily romantic in nature, some pairings were completely platonic. It was still too early to see just what kind of bond they had, but they’d both agreed that for the moment it would be platonic.

He’d made it quite clear that with his current profession that anything other than platonic wasn’t going to work. She’d agreed given the current political climate, and in all honesty she was _seventeen_. She had no interest in planning a life or getting caught up in some romance.

She just wanted to survive the world outside first.

The other thing she’d discovered was that despite how widely accepted and known soul bonds were, they were incredibly secretive. Many witches and wizards didn’t discuss their specific bonds outside of their bonded relationship, something she was grateful for. If anyone noticed the change in her eyes they didn’t let on, and outside of Ginny, Harry, and Ron no one seemed to care enough to ask.

She’d read up on the change and discovered that the swirl of her iris signified the connection between her and her bondmate—a physical representation that the bond had matured. Secretly she loved it, and found herself smiling each time she caught her reflection.

Any fear she’d had in the beginning had long faded as they settled into a norm. Instead she found it comforting when he’d drop in on the bond after a long day just to badger her with a dozen questions in order to try and coax her into letting slip her identity.

It was funny how hard he tried to figure out who she was, but not really. Each question was nonsensical—what was her favorite color? Favorite animal? Favorite teacher? How many detentions? How many times had she snuck out? What was her opinion on the new Bertie Bott’s flavors? How’d she feel about Bowtruckles? Dragons? Crups? Could she believe that the Pride had traded Andrews to the Arrows?

The last question she’d entertained by saying she felt it was a good trade, leading him into a five-minute rant about how it definitely was not a good trade before he caught on that she was taking the piss out of him.

She’d fired back the same, learning that he had a habit for causing trouble that went mostly unpunished at school because he’d tricked Dumbledore into thinking he was Prefect material. To which she countered that she’d done the exact same thing, and no she wasn’t going to elaborate on _that_.

She knew his favorite color was blue and that he had a real weakness for his mum’s pumpkin loaves.

He loved all creatures, hated the Arrows with a fierce passion, and he had an extreme dislike for carrots (which she found odd, but didn’t press).

He had a decently sized family, a dangerous job (which she’d countered she already knew and that wasn’t a sufficient answer to her question on his career choice), and had quite a few tattoos, much to his mother’s dislike.

Hermione had divulged that she rather liked tattoos and that outside of the one she wanted for her forehead, she wasn’t sure she’d ever actually get one. He was none-to-pleased about her bringing up the tattoo again despite her obvious sarcasm, but she pressed on regardless. She’d promised him then that if she ever did get a tattoo it certainly wouldn’t be of that word, and that he could go with her when she got it.

His favorite tattoo was of a forest scene he’d let on—a proper full moon shining over dozens of woodland creatures that spanned his entire back. It’d taken weeks of sessions with the wizarding artist, and _yes_ they did move about the tattoo.

She couldn’t wait to see it.

Hermione also knew that he felt incredibly guilty about missing Christmas again, so she made an effort to keep her emotions happy and positive throughout the day, hoping it would help him.

**_Happy Christmas Ms. I-Don’t-Actually-Know-Your-Name._ **

_Hmm, not as catchy as You-Know-Who. Happy Christmas none-the-less, Mr. I-Have-A-Penchant-For-Burning-My-Bondmate._

She could feel the rumble of his laughter through the bond. He’d only burnt her three times since her birthday.

**_Did you have a good time at that party?_ **

_For the most part—it was rather interesting._

Truthfully a lot had come about from Slughorn’s party, namely a startling revelation about Draco Malfoy and the resident Potion Master-turned-Defense Professor, but she held that close to her vest.

_It was just as pompous as I’d expected, full of elbow rubbing and the like. It was exhausting._

**_Who was the guest of honor?_ **

_Gwenog Jones from the Harpies. She was actually brilliant to talk to, but some of the boosters that came along were insufferable._

**_She’s a brilliant flyer and she was the captain of the national team at the last World Cup. I think she also does a lot with the philanthropy side of the players coalition._ **

**_She’s great to have in your contact lists, honestly._ **

_I suppose if you wanted a career related to flying, yeah. As it is, I hate flying._

**_I’m reconsidering this bond._ **

Hermione laughed, _If it were only so simple. I don’t mind Quidditch though, all my friends are obsessed with the sport so I’ve grown to tolerate it._

_In fact, one of them talked with Gwenog for the entire night and came away securing a spot at some private camp with the Harpies this summer. Apparently they only invite a handful of teenagers from around the country for it._

**_It’s bloody prestigious! That girl is lucky. Every single person invited to that camp is practically guaranteed to make it in the league. Some even get recruited straight to the national team._ **

**_Hell of an honor, and I’m a tad jealous. The camp isn’t open to blokes, for obvious reasons._ **

_If you’ve ever seen Ginny Weasley fly you’d know it isn’t luck. She’s been flying since she was seven! Sneaking out and stealing her brothers brooms in the dead of night since they wouldn’t let her play. Some noble nonsense about her getting hurt._

**_S-seven?!_ **

_That’s what I said! I’m not really supposed to tell anyone, but it’s not like you’ll know any of them to spill the beans. And if you do, I’ll deny everything._

**_Seven?!_ **

_You’re still hung up on that?_

**_I just—that’s a bit young to be flying on your own._ **

_I wouldn’t know, I started at eleven and I thought that was too young. _

Hermione felt her chest grow warm with his laughter, and she sent him a feeling of content back while she readjusted the pillow under her head.

**_It’s late, you should get some rest._ **

Hermione checked her watch and noted the time, 22:00. She had at least three more hours until the exhaustion would take her over, four if she really tried. She knew it wasn’t the healthiest way of coping, but she’d discovered a while ago that if she pushed her self just to the edge of exhaustion the nightmares were more infrequent.

She’d take a night of no nightmares if it meant being sleep deprived.

_I could say the same about you._

**_It’s just past midnight here, and I can tell you haven’t been sleeping much again._ **

_Don’t worry, I’m managing._

**_It’s a bit hard to worry when I can literally feel what you do, love._ **

She buried her head into her pillow then, suppressing a groan and cursing her bond.

_Can I tell you a secret?_

**_Always._ **

_I was involved in an incident this summer that ended with me being hit by a curse—_

**_Dolohov?_ **

_How’d—_ her mind recalled their first meeting when she was freaking out about going insane.

_Never mind, but yes. He hit me with some curse that even Madam Pomphrey couldn’t identify. It… it was bad, but I’m better now. I still have nightmares from it on occasion._

She wanted to tell him more, about how she’d relived the scene in the Ministry hundreds of times over. About her time in the Hospital Wing where she didn’t know if she’d live through the night for the first week after being cursed.

**_I always wondered, you know. You have a knack for sending a burst of emotions when you first wake, but I knew you weren’t comfortable talking about it._ **

_Thank you for not pressuring me into talking,_ she replied earnestly. _I don’t want sympathy or anything, but my method of coping often involves me pushing the edge of sleep deprivation. My brain gets too tired to actually torment me. I’ve tried mediating and I’ve tried breathing exercises, but nothing seems to work except literally not sleeping._

_Besides, my body seems to be able to handle the short sleep schedule so I manage._

**_Do you want me to send you some calming thoughts? I get up well before you do, it may help while you sleep._ **

_You don’t have—_

**_Too late, it’s been decided. You sleep more and I’ll think about cuddly little Pygmy Puffs every morning. Goodnight Ms. Not-You-Know-Who._ **

\---

Charlie Weasley was reeling.

Not just because of the odd bond he had with a seventeen year-old (though from their conversations he’d never know she wasn’t his age with the amount of knowledge and world experience she already had), but also because she was friends with his not-so-innocent baby sister (and seemingly a close one at that, which sent his mind down the path of _several_ theories that always ended up with one witch in mind). That fact alone made him feel like an even bigger cradle robber despite the bond only being an agreed upon platonic one.

Another part of why he was reeling was because it was that same not-so-innocent baby sister that had been _stealing_ their brooms when she was _SEVEN_. To teach herself how to fly in the dead of night.

At age seven.

He couldn’t wait to get her to admit to that this summer when he was home for Bill’s wedding.

He also couldn’t believe that she had an invitation to the coveted Harpies camp this summer. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told his bondmate that he was jealous.

Charlie knew she was good, but he’d never actually gotten a chance to see her play in a live match. He felt guilty then, like he often did when he found out about major milestones in his family that he’d missed while being in Romania.

He was beyond proud of her, in addition to a little mad about her methods of learning to fly, and he couldn’t wait for her to write with the news. He made a mental note to add a few weeks time to his summer holiday, wanting to stay in England long enough to see her off to the camp.

In his mess of feelings about the revelation, he found the humor that his bondmate had assumed he didn’t know any of the Weasleys and felt comfortable enough spilling his darling sister’s secret. He couldn’t wait for that revelation.

Despite having been three months since the bond appeared, he still found it catching him by surprise. Waiting for the bond to mature had been a long process and at one point he resigned himself to understanding that it wasn’t in the cards for him. It was incredibly rare for a witch or wizard to not have a bond mature (only a small handful of people had ever gone on record as never having formed a bond), but he rationalized that he could have lost his bondmate in the last war.

Though he’d only been a child when Voldemort was defeated, plenty of people had died at his hand in the first war. It was a sobering thought, but it was one that he’d accepted in stride. It only made sense as the years progressed, though he did have a renewed hope when Bill and Fleur’s bond matured two years ago.

Then it thrummed alive on an uncharacteristically chilly September morning, and it had sent him on a conflicting path. He wasn’t actually prepared to share a bond with anyone, not after spending so many years sure that he wasn’t going to have one, and he was especially not ready to share one of that magnitude. In his lifetime he’d never heard of anyone sharing anything more than the emotional connection—not his parents, not his best mates. Even his brother only had the emotional connection with Fleur.

His lifestyle didn’t exactly fit for any kind of bond—soul bond, marital bond, or friendship if you really thought about it. The lifestyle of a dragon keeper was one that had irregular sleep schedules and a higher mortality rate. It was an all or nothing type of career where getting attached could be the difference between life and death.

When he graduated school he’d wanted a career with dragons and being a keeper was the best way for him to achieve this, despite the many sacrifices he made along the way. He’d wavered on his choice over the years, but he loved his job as much as he loved his family. Now that Voldemort was openly back he found himself reconsidering his decision more regularly, especially now that he had a bond to call him home.

With a groan he shoved himself up from the arm chair in his cabin and crossed the room towards his bedroom, pushing those thoughts from his mind. He’d deal with it later.

\---

The day of the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match had come quickly, and she was nervous. She felt horrible that Harry was missing the match, especially after how the last match had ended for him. But she was confident in their ability to win, more so once Ginny had told her she was filling in for Seeker. At least that was what she kept coaching herself with on the way down to the pitch. 

**_You’re a basket case today, Ms. Insomniac._ **

_It’s the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match today. Gryffindor is down a few key players and I don’t know how it’s going to go._

**_Hmm, a Gryffindor then? That’ll make it easier to track you down._ **

_I didn’t say I was a Gryffindor._

**_Then why are you so worried about them winning, if not for house pride?_ **

She knew he had her at that, so she improvised. _You forget one of my good friends is on the team. Gin did the math and if they win by enough points they could win the Cup, and considering Ginny’s filling in for Seeker—_

**_What happened to Potter?_ **

_Detention with Snape._

**_He’ll stop at nothing to sabotage Gryffindor. Git._ **

She chuckled at that, though she knew the real reason behind the detention was anything but sabotage.

_For all you know I might be a Slytherin._

**_For one, a Slytherin would never admit to cheering for Gryffindor no matter who their friends were._ **

**_For two, a Slytherin would never be caught fraternizing with a Weasley._ **

**_For three as a muggleborn you’d be dead in your bed within the first month._ **

_I know, it felt wrong to even suggest it. I wouldn’t have lasted a semester if I was constantly fighting with Malfoy. It took three years of his obnoxious behavior before I punched him, and that’s with me not being a Slytherin. _

_I could have been the youngest sent to Azkaban for murder, who knows._

**_For a Malfoy? The DMLE might’ve given you an Order of Merlin for services to the wizarding world. That’s at least a Third Class ranking._ **

_Damn, I was hoping for a Second Class._

_Truly though, I could be a Ravenclaw or a Hufflepuff you know._

**_A Ravenclaw would be too proud to root against their house in the final game of the year, and considering your knack for trouble making I still am staking claims on Gryffindor._ **

_I’ll remind you that it is trouble finding, not trouble making._

**_Semantics love, but do me a favor and cheer a little for my alma matter._ **

_I should have known that the man with a hazardous occupation would have been a Gryffindor._

**_Prude._ **

_Git._

\---

When she finally managed to break away from the Hospital Wing she’d found herself tucked in the shadows of the tower adjacent from Gryffindor Tower. She’d huddled against the stone wall that overlooked the Black Lake, knees hugged to her chest as she let out a ragged sob. She knew her emotions had to have the bond going haywire, but she was holding it together as best she could.

Dumbledore was dead.

Snape had killed him.

Death Eaters had been in the castle.

Draco Malfoy had let them in.

They’d escaped.

Voldemort had made Horcruxes.

Bill Weasley was laid up in the hospital after an attack from Greyback.

Dumbledore was _dead_.

Everything was going to change.

Because Dumbledore was dead.

It was just past midnight when she felt the bond stir, signaling that he was waking. For a moment she felt bad, knowing it was her fault for waking him.

She let her head drop to her knees, stifling the sobs that echoed in the night. Briefly she wished he were there with her, sitting beside her against the wall. She stifled the wish though, not allowing herself to lean into their bond.

They were at war now, and life was about to change drastically.

**_What’s wrong? Are you hurt?_ **

She sobbed harder.

**_Where are you—I’ll come to you._ **

_Dumbledore is dead._

The bond was numb for a split second before a wave of different emotions crashed into her, mixing with her own mess of tears. She felt his anger, his sadness, his fear.

Another sob ripped through her as the reality of the night finally crashed down around her. It had been hovering around her while she barely kept her composure, but now she felt completely lost. The bond buzzed in her chest, and she felt a pulse of comfort as he tried to calm her anxiety.

God how she wished he were here.

**_No—_ **

_Snape killed him._

**_No!_ **

She wiped the tears from her eyes and pulled herself up so that she was leaned against the wall. Her eyes lingered across the way, to the spot just below the Astronomy tower.

She felt numb and broken.

_Death Eaters were in the castle tonight. I’m fine, there weren’t many injuries. One person was attacked by a werewolf—unchanged, but he might have some issues next full moon. He’ll survive._

**_How’d Death Eater’s get in?! The castle is supposed to be warded to keep them out!_ **

_The got in through a vanishing cabinet from Knockturn Alley. It all happened so fast—we couldn’t stop them…_

**_You shouldn’t have had to. Were you hurt?_ **

_No, none of us with the DA were._

**_The DA?_ **

_Dumbledore’s Army. We formed last year when that hag refused to teach us Defense, but we kept it up this year to protect the school. Harry knew—he warned us that something could happen—_

**_How’d Potter know?_ **

Hermione cursed herself at the slip.

 _I can’t be sure,_ she lied. _I think Dumbledore may have tipped him… I don’t know. He rounded us up before everything happened, we were patrolling when the Death Eaters got in._

_I don’t know how we got so lucky._

**_I don’t either, but I’m glad you did._ **

\---

It had taken a great deal of resolve for her not to have an emotional breakdown once the memory charm had been cast on her parents. She didn’t have time for his questions, even if they would be well intended. It wouldn’t have taken one word from him to send her into a breakdown, so she put everything she had into keeping her composure as she had apparated from her childhood home.

Compartmentalize and break down later, she’d kept repeating to herself.

It was the first step in her plan: get her parents out of the country and away from the Death Eaters. She knew she was likely to be number two or three on the metaphorical hit list, and it was only a matter of time until they came knocking for her family.

It was hard, so incredibly hard, to wipe herself from existence in the muggle world. She knew it was for the best as her parents could never defend themselves against a Death Eater. This was her fight and she’d be damned if they were hurt in the process.

But she’d be lying if it didn’t sting to know that she’d never know them as her parents again.

It would also make it easier for them to cope if she didn’t make it through the war. You can’t grieve a daughter you don’t know exists.

The second part of her plan expanded on that sentiment. She’d been toying with the idea since Christmas, once she’d understood that Malfoy was planning something that involved Snape. Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought it would play out like it had, but even in the worst nightmares her mind could muster she knew that she had to take more precautions for those she cared for.

Going on the run with Harry and Ron was always inevitable, though she often thought it would have been after they’d graduated. Having a soul bond would pose an issue if it was simply the emotional bond, but as she had a mental and physical bond she couldn’t afford for her time on the run to affect him.

Hermione couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t be caught or tortured, and she couldn’t be sure that if Voldemort had even an inkling of the power in her bond that he wouldn’t use it against her. Voldemort was proficient through his own bond with Harry, possessing or hijacking her own bond would be a cakewalk for him. She knew he’d stop at nothing to get to Harry, and using the bond would be right up his alley.

She’d had nightmares about it, starting the night after Dumbledore had been killed. They’d been on the run when she as captured, and in an attempt to get her to give up Harry he’d used her bond against her. In every single dream she’d had Voldemort would find him and torture him in front of her, letting her feel his pain, fear, and anguish through their shared bond. It was horrifying and no matter what she did in those dreams she’d never been able to stop it.

Fear kept her rooted to the floor as she’d scream for him.

She’d wake when the bond went numb, a bright green light clouding her vision.

Hermione knew that if anything happened to him because of her that she’d never survive it. She’d never forgive herself.

She couldn’t chance it.

That’s how she found herself, standing beside Bill Weasley as they charmed the chair coverings to match the fabric swatch Fleur had chosen, with a small amulet hooked on a delicate silver chain tucked into her pocket.

_I’m going to do something in a little while that you won’t like._

**_Why does that sound like goodbye?_ **

_Because it is… for now at least. I think I’ve got a way to numb the bond, temporarily at least. I don’t think it’ll last long, a year at most. The magic in the runes isn’t strong, but I’m hopeful I won’t need to keep recharging it._

**_That sick of me?_ **

_The contrary, actually. There’s word the ministry will fall soon, and once it does I’ll be on the run. I’ve defied Voldemort both directly and indirectly over the years, and given my blood status I’ll be high on his target list. I can’t risk having him find out about the bond, or having him use it against us. Or Merlin forbid have you endure the torture if I’m caught._

**_You could come to me. I’d protect you, you know. I’ve got a cabin in a secure area and you’d be safe here. I know a bloke great with wards, he’d come out in a pinch and shore up the place if it’d make you feel better._ **

She felt a sad smile tug at her lips as she moved to the next chair covering.

_I have no doubt you’d keep me safe, truly I don’t. And if things were any bit different, I’d be there in a flash. We could’ve hid away until the end of the war._

_But this is my fight and I’m not just running. I’ll be operating against him in a round-about fashion. It’s dangerous, but I have to do it._

**_Typical bloody Gryffindor._ **

**_Let me help you, please..._ **

_Say’s the Gryffindor._

_And I wish I could, Merlin I wish I could. This…What I’ve got to do is my fight and I can’t—_

She felt the calming in the bond before she had a chance to lose her composure.

_I’ll miss it every second it’s gone, you know. Please understand that I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t absolutely necessary_

**_Just promise me one thing._ **

_Yeah?_

**_When you’re in trouble you’ll take it off and call to me. I’ll be there in an instant to save you, no matter where you are, no matter the time._ **

**_Please._ **

_I promise—if I’m able to call you I will—_

She was pulled from their conversation when Bill cleared his throat. She glanced at him and took in the amused look on his face.

“Lost in your mind?”

She blushed in response, “You could say that. Why?”

“That chair covering is crimson, not ‘just-barely-beige-but-kind-of-ivory-if-the-sun-hits-it-just-right’.”

She found herself laughing at his words as she waved her wand over the crimson fabric, watching as the ripple of beige washed over it, adjusting until it matched the fabric swatch.

“Can I ask you something? I need an opinion.”

“Depends on the opinion I suppose,” Bill admitted.

“Can you take a look at the runes on this amulet?” She asked, fishing it from her pocket.

He looked at her curiously before taking the small chain in his hands. He brought the amulet (a small rectangle with interlacing runes carved on all sides) up to his face and peered at each rune. “Is this—”

“A way to suppress a soul bond temporarily? Yes.”

Bill flicked his eyes between the amulet and the witch beside him. “It’s impressive,” He began slowly. “Can I ask why?”

“My bond is a bit rare,” She admitted, looking away from him and back at the chair coverings. “We’ve got all three types.”

“Lucky bloke,” Bill muttered as he passed the amulet back to her. “And I suppose that since you and the dynamic duo are planning something, you feel it’s best to cut off the man?”

“In a way, yes. I know that you know we are planning something—hell even your mum knows. I can’t chance Voldemort using it against us, not after what he’s done to Harry through their bond. If we’re caught…”

Bill nodded solemnly, “I understand it, you don’t have to pitch it to me. It’s incredible magic, but I don’t know how long it will last. You may get it to last a year, though I imagine it’ll be burn out by May or June if you encounter anything that would stress the bond.”

“I know, I just had to try, you know?”

“I’d do the same, in your shoes.” Bill admitted, waving a wand over the last of the chair coverings. “My bond with Fleur isn’t all that different from yours. We had the emotional connection, and after the incident with Greyback, we developed the mental aspect. I think it has something to do with the pack mind that comes with my lycanthropic symptoms.

“You’ll want to glamor your eyes though,” He suggested. “Even if you suppress the bond they’ll still be swirled with his eye color. Anyone who catches up to you and has any sense about them will be able to tell that you have a strong bond.”

Hermione nodded, “I wondered about it, though a quick glamor charm won’t be the worst thing to deal with.”

He reached out and gave her shoulder a squeeze, “It’ll all play out.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but given how successful our extraction with Harry was, I’ll hold the optimism for when I really need it.”

She gently pulled the amulet to her throat, and unclasped the end.

_I’m sorry. Please be safe._

She placed the amulet on her neck before he could respond, and willed the tears from her eyes. Beside her Bill pulled her into a hug.

“Goodbye’s are never easy,” He said into her hair. “Remember your family here will be there when you need us, alright?”

\---

She’d taken up a spot on the stone wall of the garden, knees hugged to her chest while one hand was wrapped around her legs. The other hand lay loosely by her side, twitching every so often to send another gnome over the wall and up the hill. She alternated with her familiar, letting the orange cat chase off a gnome every so often.

The silence in the garden soothed her nerves, allowing her a few blissful hours of planning.

It also gave her time to cope with her decision to numb the bond. She knew she’d miss the sarcastic wit that met her at every turn, that familiar and easy banter they’d adopted early on in their silent communication. She’d even miss the seemingly random questions he’d throw out, just to catch her off guard.

Most off all, she found herself missing the dull thrum of magic that hummed in her chest throughout the day, letting her in on his thoughts and emotions. She missed the way it warmed when he was happy, the way he would send her a wave of calmness when he could feel her nerves were shot.

No matter how much she’d prepared, she hadn’t realized how much she missed _him_.

Maybe it was a culmination of the numbed bond and the loss of her parents, but she felt lost in that moment, questioning all her life choices up to that point. Logically she knew she was doing the best she could, given the hand she’d been dealt. Harry would need her undivided attention throughout the hunt, and she couldn’t risk exposing him. Her heart sung a different tune, and for the first time in her life Hermione Granger was truly _lost_.

A soft crack sounded behind her, prompting her to spin on the wall, wand pointed towards the source of the sound. A tall man appeared, donning a faded navy tee shirt and a pair of equally faded muggle jeans that had patches missing. An old duffle bag was slung across his muscle-toned chest and a wide grin had spread across his tanned, freckled face.

A warmth spread through her as she recognized the new wizard.

“I come in peace,” He said as he drew near.

Hermione let her wand drop to her side as she hopped off the wall. With a deep breath she felt her feet moving towards him, a smile pulling at her lips.

“Your mum will be thrilled. She’s been counting the minutes since yesterday.”

His chuckle sent a shiver down her spine as she drew near, and the warmth that had bloomed in her chest quickly spread throughout her body. Blinking, she pushed that revelation aside, instead focusing her attention back on the wayward Weasley son as he crossed into the boundaries of the wards. “Slow up, I’ll give you a quick rundown on the place.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, “Oh? You forget I grew up with her. I imagine she’s been barking orders since sun-up, yeah?”

“Your mum has gone absolutely mental,” Hermione responded with a nod. “She’s got us all working around the clock for the wedding. I think Bill and your dad have changed the tent color four times, we’ve changed the chair coverings twice, Ginny’s remade the center pieces at least a dozen times, and Harry and Ron keep alternating on sneaking off to take a kip.”

“Sounds like a typical Tuesday then.”

Hermione laughed, and Charlie found himself chucking alongside her. He offered her an arm as they slowly made their way towards the home. Without hesitation she wrapped her arm with his and continued on, “The Twins are the smartest—they’ve been scarce due to ‘a high demand’ at the shop, which we all know is a load of crap. George is doing much better by the way, just prepare for an incredible amount of awful ear humor. Fred got him a joke book and everything.”

Charlie groaned, “Please tell me that’s a lie.”

She shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. “I wish I could. Your mum’s sent me to make the bed for Fleur’s parents four times today, and finally decided to send me out on Gnome duty once she realized there was nothing left for me to dust, fold, or sweep.” She waved a hand towards the garden where Crookshanks was laid against the ground, tail twitching as a gnome hobbled over the wall.

“Anything else I need to know?” Charlie asked with a laugh as the orange beast pounced the unsuspecting gnome. “I feel like I’m being briefed for a secret mission or something.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, but gave him a smile none the less. Her footing faltered and he noticed she'd knit her brows in concentration. Before he could inquire she was speaking again.

“It is something else, alright. Since everyone else has keyed in on it, I’ll save you the trouble for later because I’m honestly sick of the conspiring against us. Yes—Harry, Ron and I are planning something. Yes, we will probably disappear in the night. And yes, we’ve got it thought through. Half the reason your mum has gone mental is to keep us all separated in hopes that we can’t plan the inevitable.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow at her, steps faltering as hers had moments ago. He wasn’t prepared for her bold admission, though he admired her for not holding any punches. Nothing seemed to stay a secret in the Weasley household.

It didn’t stop him from worrying about them and their plan. Briefly he wondered if he should try and talk her out of whatever plan they’d cooked up, but the logical side of his mind reminded him there was no reasoning with the three of them once they’d set their minds on something.

“Isn’t working, is it? Not that I’m not surprised, you three hack a knack for finding trouble and always seem to be on some scheme or another,” He offered with a roll of his yes. “It’s rather exhausting to keep up with.”

Hermione shook her head at him, not bothering to hide her smug smirk. “Not in the slightest, despite her best attempts. I’m not considered the brightest witch of my age for nothing, exhausted or not. I’ve had it planned since the funeral…” She trailed off, glancing back to the garden. “Anyway, I tell you all of this because Ron’s going to need your help with the ghoul.”

“The ghoul?”

“The ghoul,” She affirmed, returning her attention to the older man on her arm. “When we inevitably pop away I’ll disappear like the good little mud—”

He cleared his throat at her, but she rolled her eyes. “Like the good little muggleborn fleeing for her life, and Ron will have a case of Splattergroit that will keep him from going back to school. Or rather the ghoul will, once Ron gets done transfiguring him into a ghastly version of himself.”

“Ron’s been transfiguring the ghoul?” Charlie replied, clearly impressed.

Hermione nodded, “Honestly it surprised me too. He’s done a bang-up job so far, but it could use some refining. I’d mention it to Bill but he’s got his hands full with your mum at the moment.”

Charlie stopped in his tracks and shook his head in wonder, “This place is an honest to Merlin circus.”

“You love it,” she giggled before turning to head back to the garden. “When you need a reprieve you know where to find me!”

His retort was lost on her, so instead he turned and headed towards the door of his familial home, ignoring the pang of sadness at her sudden departure. A familiar face peered outside, marred with thin white scars. Bill’s face lit up at the sight of his younger brother and he rushed out to meet him.

Charlie barely bit back the remark that his brother had greatly downplayed how severe the scaring was, instead opting to corner him about it after the wedding.

“To dad’s shop,” Bill said quietly, turning his brother around and shoving him towards the shed their father kept all the muggle contraptions in.

“Lovely to see you too brother,” Charlie remarked as he stumbled into the shop. “Care to tell me why you are shoving me around before I’ve even greeted our mother? I’d rather not die before being your best man.”

Bill grunted at him before slipping into the shed himself. “Mum’s having Ginny change the center pieces again and the most holy of shouting matches just erupted between them and Fleur. If you value your life you’ll wait a bit for them to cool off.”

At this Charlie tipped his head back and laughed. “Hermione wasn’t joking then.”

Bill arched an eyebrow at him. “Yeah?”

“She said mum’s gone nutters, and that Gin’s already redone them a dozen times.”

“Fourteen actually, this will be lucky fifteen.”

Charlie let out a low whistle and ran a hand over his face, “Merlin help us. Maybe I’ll just pop in the day of the ceremony, take a page out of the twins’ book.”

“You and me both.”

Bill caught sight of his brothers face for the first time since their reunion. The change in his appearance was subtle enough—the hair that used to be kept as long as his was cut shorter and pulled back at the nape of his neck. It would definitely be shorter by the morning of the ceremony once their Mum pinned him down, a thought that brought a smirk to his face. The tan on his face was just a bit darker than before, and there were definitely a few more freckles to be found. The real difference was the eyes—swirled with brown, not unlike what he’d seen a few days ago when Hermione had approached him with the amulet.

“You’ve got your bondmate then.”

Charlie blinked and cocked his head before it dawned on him. “The eyes? Remind me to glamor them before we go in, I don’t really want mum fawning all over me just yet.”

“You’d see it in mine too, but Fleur’s blue is only slightly brighter than mine.”

“That’s new then? Thought you two just had the emotional baggage of each other.”

“Wolf, I think?” Bill replied, rolling his eyes.

Charlie shrugged, “I’m a dragon man who has a witch who is opting for secrecy until this bloody war is over. Don’t ask me about wolves, I failed that part of the NEWT exam.”

This caught Bill’s attention, though he opted not to press the matter. “How’s that going?”

“It’s going. I get it, but I don’t like it. She’s a muggleborn and is more of a target than me being in Romania. We just have to deal with the rogue Death Eater every now and again when they feel bold enough to try and rob us of a dragon. Though usually the dragons just toast them up for us, so really it’s just been a lot of clean up duty.

“I offered her a sanctuary with me, but the wench is actually going to fight in the war like a true Gryffindor.” He finished his rant with an eye roll. “Not that I blame her, because if I could manage it I’d be here on the front lines with you lot, but right now we are playing defense at the Reserve and there’s no chance I can get away.”

“You’re better suited there; we can’t have him getting an army of dragons for the war. That would be devastating.”

Charlie grimaced and nodded, not wanting to imagine how horrific that would be.

“Romantic or platonic?” Bill asked, trying to steer the subject away from the war, though he was filing all the information for later. He had a firm suspicion on who his brother’s bondmate was, even if the man himself wasn’t clued in just yet. 

“Platonic,” Charlie admitted, arms crossed over his chest.

“Do you want romantic?”

“Ask me in about five years when it doesn’t feel like cradle snatching.”

“She’s young then,” Bill observed, finalizing his hypothesis. “I assumed, but considering I haven’t actually seen you since Christmas 1995 and you’re lousy with details in your letters…”

Charlie nodded with another grimace. “In my defense it’s not even been a year. Besides it’s not exactly something I want to jot in a letter back to a country openly fucking with the post.”

Bill gave him a pointed look and Charlie rolled his eyes.

“You get over it,” Bill said finally with a wave of his hand. “Fleur and I did.”

Charlie wrinkled his nose, “Don’t remind me. You’ve turned into a mushy sap since the day you two met. It’s like when we were back at school and you were fawning over that Hufflepuff Prefect—Patty? Pam?”

“Penny, and she was Head Girl as you well know. Don’t think I haven’t forgotten about your _fawning_ either.” Bill replied with a smirk as Charlie scoffed. “Wait until you meet her Char, and you’ll be singing the same tune as me. I can’t explain it—once the bond recognizes you two together it’s like seeing the world in a new light.”

“You sound like you need to be committed.”

\---

The wedding had been beautiful, and the reception had been going well into the night when she caught sight of Charlie cornered by Hagrid. She could tell he was actively looking for a way out of the conversation as his eyes darted around the reception. Feeling pity for the man she excused herself from the conversation with one of the many Weasley cousins and made her way across the tent towards the two.

She caught his eyes and offered him a smile while he silently plead with her for help.

“Charlie! There you are! Your mum’s been looking for you.” She said as she neared them. “Sorry Hagrid, I need to steal him away for a minute.”

She pulled his arm and waved goodbye to the half giant, turning at the last minute towards the refreshment table.

“Uh, isn’t my mum over—”

“This was a rescue mission,” Hermione responded as she took a glass of champagne from the table. “I accept payment in the form of books and sugar quills.”

“I could kiss you,” Charlie responded.

“Even with my champagne breath?” Hermione asked as she took a sip from her glass.

Charlie cocked his head, considering her words. “To be honest I’m not much of a champagne bloke, but I suppose I could make an exception.”

“Neither am I,” she admitted with a laugh. “For one I’m not a bloke, and for two I much prefer a whiskey and soda.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow at her, “A whiskey drinker? The little perfect Prefect is a rebel?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “You know as well as I do that my track record is anything but perfect thanks to that brother of yours and our best friend.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Charlie said as he tapped his own champagne flute to hers.

Her reply was cut short as Kingsley’s patronus crashed through the reception to announce the ministry had fallen. Chaos broke out then, as she frantically looked for Ron and the poly-juiced Harry. Charlie caught her arm and pointed across the tent to Ron.

“Hermione, please be safe,” he told her before she rushed off to meet him.

Hermione shot him a grateful look, “Please be safe too.”

She felt his hand linger on her arm for a long moment as they held each other’s gaze. There were many things that she wanted to say then, but a crash from behind them sent her back into flight mode. Blinking she took off across the tent towards Ron, snagging the arm of Harry as she went.

With a distinct crack she apparated them away, pushing down the sob that threatened to escape her chest.


	2. 01

“You let them leave?!” His voice was low and threatening, but Charlie knew it was all bark

Bill paced the floor in the kitchen of his and Fleur’s cottage, running one hand through his long hair. They’d separated after the reception broke up, Fleur seeing her parents and sister safely back to France while he and Charlie evacuated the rest of the family to various safehouses to stay at while they shored up the wards at the Burrow.

It was late into the morning when they’d stumbled into the kitchen, vowing to finish the wards at dawn’s first light. Charlie had taken up a spot leaning against the counter while Bill moved around the small room in an attempt to calm himself.

“You know they had a plan—” Charlie began.

“We’re at war!” Bill snapped, turning towards him mid-stride. “They’re seventeen for fucks sake!”

“And you think that makes a difference for the fucking Boy-Who-Lived?! He’s been targeted since he was a year old Bill!” Charlie shouted, his temper finally cracking. “Those three are thick as thieves and would have been gone even if mum locked them in the bloody cellar. We weren’t stopping them, so why even fight it?”

Bill slammed a fist against the counter beside his brother, his normal blue eyes flashing amber. Charlie held his ground, knowing that the wolf in his brother was fighting for control. It rarely reared its head, and he knew that Bill must be toeing the line of losing control for it to surface.

Charlie’s jaw clenched tightly, eyes blazing as Bill let out a low growl. 

“Do you even know who you sent out there?” Bill spat. “Are you even going to fight for her?!”

Charlie slammed a fist into the counter, “What do you think I’m doing?”

“Nothing! That’s the problem! Your bondmate, your _brother_ —”

Charlie ran a hand through his hair, painfully pulling at his roots in an effort to stifle the rage burning in his chest. “I’m well aware Bill. Very painfully, fully fucking aware!”

He began to pace then, trying to expel the pent-up energy. It was useless to argue, she’d made it quite clear of their plan. There was no stopping them, and he didn’t have the right to be as upset as he felt.

Their bond was _platonic_ , he had no claim on her. No matter how much his heart wished it different in that moment.

“Tell me,” Charlie began softly. “Tell me when those three left well enough alone? Tell me the last damn time anyone was able to stop them? Surely not as eleven-year old’s, not when they went head long into a fucking chamber to save Gin. Definitely not when they chased an escaped murderer and went toe to toe with a fucking werewolf.”

He was gaining momentum now, and he could see the fire in his brother die and instead ignite within himself. “Or how about when they went all-in on that tournament? When they left the school to break _into_ the ministry? How about two months ago when they were patrolling the halls _WAITING_ for the Death Eaters?!”

“Char—”

“No Bill,” Charlie snapped, eyes flashing. “We may be bonded but I have no say in what she does—no more than the say I have over Ron or that bloody Boy-Who-The-Dark-Tosser-Is-Obsessed-With. They’d be gone bond or not, so don’t ask me if I’m going to _fight_ for it—because I’m fighting a hell of a lot of shit right now.

“Do you know how it feels, Bill? To have a bond and then have it gone? To know you have a link to another human and could literally be there at the drop of a hat to save them if necessary, only to have it be taken away under the pretense of safety?”

“No—”

“And I hope you never do.” Charlie stopped his pacing and leaned against the counter beside his older brother. “And as much as it kills me, I can’t do a damn thing. Not here, not in Romania, not by her side. We have our roles in the war and I’m stuck being pulled in two impossible ways.”

Bill let out a long breath and turned to the cabinet next to the fire place. With a wave of his wand two glasses floated from the cabinet and sat themselves on the counter between them. A bottle of Firewhiskey nestled itself beside the glasses only a second later. Without a word Bill poured two generous glasses of the amber liquid.

Charlie took one glass and downed it quickly, blinking as his throat caught fire.

“How long?” Bill asked quietly.

“A while,” Charlie admitted hoarsely. “But she was adamant that she stay hidden because of him, so I let her keep the pretense of anonymity.”

“She didn’t want him to use the bond like he did with Harry,” Bill nodded, sipping his own drink. “It’s a rare and powerful bond, right up that pricks alley. He’d use it in a heartbeat if he thought it’d get him Potter. Not to mention what it’d do to you if they get caught and tortured.”

Charlie nodded before pouring himself a second glass. “It’s safer for her too, and I’d give up this bond a thousand times over if it meant her safety.”

“I saw the amulet she made—its bloody impressive. She cares a lot about this you know.”

“That supposed to make me feel better?” Charlie asked gruffly.

“No.”

\---

He hadn’t prepared for how hard it was to focus without the bond. He’d spent twenty-four years of his life without it, so it shouldn’t make much of a difference without it now. It shouldn’t be this _lonely._ It was like something was missing in his mind. His brain was in a constant haze just waiting for her to reappear.

It was hard, and he hated it. Knowing she was on the run with Undesirable No. 1 and No. 3 was little comfort and it made him feel useless. As the war progressed there were no sightings of them, not since they broke into the Ministry in September. Bill had sent a clipping of the article to him, and he found himself skimming it every single day since. He’d taken out a subscription to the horrid paper and even had the Quibbler delivered.

He’d spend hours poring over every word of text in the publications, looking for any signs from them. It was Christmas now and he’d hoped there would have been _something_ to let them know they were even still alive.

The attacks on the Reserve had ramped up, but they were holding their own. The Romanian Ministry had stationed extra Aurors around the perimeter of the Reserve to offer assistance, but Charlie knew that if they didn’t do something soon it would be a moot effort.

The Death Eaters were far more emboldened than they were a year ago and it was only a matter of time before they managed to breach the Reserve. He could only hope that the dragons would hold their own and torch the lot of them.

The Dark Lord had grown into power unlike the last war—and though he’d only been a child then, this was all new territory. He was constantly conflicted, wanting to be at home fighting but also wanting to be here to help keep his friends and coworkers safe. He also wanted to throw caution into the wind and go underground to find them—to find her—and help them with whatever wild chase Dumbledore had set them on.

**_Happy Christmas Hermione_. **

He knew she wouldn’t answer and she wouldn’t hear it, but he had to try.

\---

It was spring when he felt the thrum of the bond in his chest. He’d been in his cabin finishing out a report on the latest move against the Reserve when it happened.

At first he hadn’t noticed it, slipping back into his normal state from the year before. It was like he hadn’t missed a beat with her—

Then it flared up, and he was hit with a crippling snap of pain and the most intense fear he’d ever felt. It was paralyzing, bone chilling, how it attacked him. The bond had hit him with the full force of a tidal wave, sending him crashing to the floor. His screams died in his throat as his body contorted, pain searing at every nerve ending.

It was blinding, mind numbing, and terrifying how the pain ripped through every millimeter of his body.

Numbly he was aware that his arm was on fire but he couldn’t find it in him to focus on the pain once her screams began to echo in his head.

His heart had stopped then, clenching as his body was hit with the terror she felt. Her screams sent his mind into over drive as their bond began to crackle between their magic. He could hear the muffled popping around him as his vision began to swim.

He needed to get out of here, he needed to get to her.

A pained cry finally escaped his throat as he reached out to her.

**_HERMIONE!_ **

**_PLEASE!_ **

**_WHERE—_ **

Charlie had never felt a pain like this. The bond pulsed again and he felt his magic surge to her in a last desperate attempt to reach her. Begging her to answer.

Another cry left his lips and he felt something snapping inside him. Dark spots danced in his eyes, bleeding together until he felt himself spiral into nothing. 

\---

It had been three days before he woke in the medical tent, greeted by the confused faces of two healers and the head Auror stationed at the Reserve. They’d poked and prodded him for what felt like hours, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. He was too busy screaming to their bond, begging her to answer.

The emptiness in his chest was chilling. It felt like he had a brick shoving down on his lungs, like each breath could be his last. As haunting as the absence of their bond had been before, this was worse than he ever could have imagined it would be.

“Honestly Weasley we don’t know what the fuck happened,” The Auror admitted, looking at a loss. The sound of the older man’s voice pulled him from his stupor. Charlie flicked his gaze from the end of his cot to the man, not bothering to answer.

“We’ve got you on potions to stop the tremors, and your body is acting like it’s been through a few rounds of the Cruciatus curse,” The nearest Healer explained. “Which is perplexing because by all accounts you should be insane or dead, if the scans we did after you’d been found are anything to go by. And that was hours after the fact.” 

Charlie blinked at them as the understanding settled into his brain.

“There’s no dark magic around your cabin, and nothing cursed. But even if that explained the curse, we can’t explain the cuts on your arm.” The Auror added, one hand gesturing to the gauze covered forearm.

Numbly Charlie tore the gauze from his arm, ignoring the protests of the two Healers. His eyes ran over the letters carved in his skin and a shiver went down his spine.

_MUDBLOOD_

He knew she was likely dead—you don’t survive that much Cruciatus first hand.

And if that hadn’t taken her, the blood loss from the open wound would have.

And it explained why the bond was gone again. He knew the amulet would run out, and Bill had told him to expect it around the spring or early summer. He knew that the trauma she faced then would have burnt through it, and he knew that the crushing numbness he was feeling was a direct result in losing the other half of his bond.

_Their bond._

He was exhausted, but he knew he needed to leave. He needed to get out of the country, he needed to get back home to finish this fight.

And when he found out who killed her, he’d make sure there wouldn’t be anything left to find. Of that he was certain.

\---

The Healers had kept him a week to finish the potion regimen he was on before they’d even considered letting him out of the tent. The tremors from the Cruciatus would always stay with him they’d told him, but over time they’d mellow out to where he’d barely notice them. Sure enough, after the last round of potions they had waned enough that they were only present when he was physically exhausted, which was a problem since every little move left him feeling like he’d run a marathon.

It was nearly two weeks from the attack once they’d cleared him for travel, and that same morning he’d begun the chain of portkeys to get to his brother’s home. The Director at the Reserve didn’t put up a fight and handed him the sabbatical papers along with the first portkey.

An hour later he landed in front of the familiar cottage, and for a moment he wondered what he was actually doing. Since he’d woken in the medical tent he’d had one focus—get home. His mind had gone into fight-or-flight mode and he never gave a second thought to the attack. To _her_.

The only thing he’d allowed his mind to think about had been on leaving the Reserve and not passing out after each breath.

But now when he was confronted with the sight of the house his brother shared with his wife, he felt those thoughts come crashing on him. Days of repressed memories and emotions flooded him then, and he barely noticed the duffle bag falling to the ground beside him. His knees buckled then, and he felt the hard earth collide with his legs.

She was dead.

Which meant his brother was likely dead too.

Potter would be dead soon, if not already—they were inseparable after all.

How would they win the war without the prophesized hero?

_She. Was. Dead._

Numbly he registered the crude cross over a fresh mound of dirt a few meters from him and suddenly he felt the rest of his resolve break as his mind was reminded of the absence of their bond. The sob ripped through his chest, raw and emotional.

_She was dead…_

A pair of hands grasped his shoulders, and soft words were spoken in his ear. The French accent was familiar and comforting, though he couldn’t bring himself to look her in the face.

“Char—” The voice of his brother broke through to him. “What’s happened? Are you hurt?”

Charlie blinked slowly, trying to regain his composure long enough to shake his head. “N—no.” His voice was hoarse, and suddenly he realized how thirsty he was.

_She was dead._

“Fleur, can you get him something to drink while I help him in?”

Fleur’s response was lost on him, as Charlie focused on trying to stand. The traveling had taken a lot of his energy, and now that he was finally dealing with reality, he found that he could barely move his legs. He could feel the tremors in his hands then, and silently he pleaded with his body to hold it together long enough to get inside.

Bill slipped an arm around his brother’s torso, and gently stood them both up. “Can you walk?”

“I—maybe?” His throat burned at the use.

Charlie shuffled, focusing all his effort on moving his legs. It was hard, harder than it should have been he thought angrily. Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes to keep help stop the nausea that was beginning to churn in his stomach. The terrain under his boots changed from gravel to something more solid, and before he knew it Bill had dropped him onto the sofa.

He let out a sigh, and willed his eyes to open. He took in the worried faces of his brother and sister-in-law, and accepted the potion vial in Fleur’s outstretched hand. With shaking hands he tossed back the bright orange liquid of a Pepper-up Potion.

Immediately a burst of energy shot through him and for a moment the shaking stopped. Fleur handed him a glass of water next, to which he greedily downed in one go.

“What happened?”

Charlie was quiet, mind mulling over how he was going to answer. How do you tell your brother that your bondmate was dead? That your other brother was likely to be beside her in the afterlife? How do you admit that you couldn’t help her in those final moments? That you couldn’t help them?

How do you—

“Your arm,” Fleur gasped before he could form a cohesive thought. Gently she held his arm to inspect the blooming spot of blood that was slowly moving across the tan fabric of his jacket.

“The bandages need changed,” Charlie said simply before shrugging out of the jacket. His eyes were trained on the arm, voice barely above a whisper. Fleur waved a wand towards the kitchen to summon her medical kit, trying to see through the gaunt mask he’d slipped into.

As the kit landed on the sofa beside the younger Weasley she made swift work of changing the dressing before he could protest, tutting once she had the gauze off. Beside her Fleur felt Bill stiffen.

“Just like ‘ermione.” She breathed as her husband swore, though Charlie didn’t catch what she had said. He was too focused on watching her wave her wand over the open wound in a series of complicated waves, muttering softly as she went.

There was a burning in his arm that caused him to hiss, but he let the witch continue to work on the arm. She seemed to know exactly what she was doing, which was a relief since the two Healers at the Reserve couldn’t figure out how to get the wound to close.

“It’s cursed,” Bill explained as he watched his brother closely.

Charlie’s eyes flashed to him then, a look of surprise etched on his face. “How’d—”

“Hermione,” Bill responded simply.

Charlie’s face fell at the mention of her name, his eyes closing in an attempt to keep the tears from spilling. It didn’t matter much as he felt them slowly trickle down his cheeks.

_She’s dead._

“Fleur patched her up before the three of them disappeared again. You just missed them, actually.”

His heart froze then, unsure if his mind had processed the words correctly. He couldn’t have heard him right. She couldn’t have lived through that—

“She’s alive?” Charlie asked before his mind could run wild with hope, voice cracking. He steeled himself for the crushing news. He didn’t dare believe it.

There was no way.

“Yes, though the three of them clearly have seen better days.” Bill remarked as Fleur finished with his arm.

She gave Charlie a quick peck on his cheek before gathering the supplies and slipping into the kitchen. “I’ll assemble an early tea,” She said as she left the two.

“Alive?” Charlie pressed, shooting her a grateful look.

Bill nodded with a frown. “What happened?”

Charlie was silent for a moment, focusing on steading his breath. His heart was racing with a hope that his mind refused to acknowledge. He swallowed thickly, processing the news that she was _alive_.

Not dead.

_Alive._

A thousand thoughts flew through his mind then, wondering how she could be a live but he couldn’t feel her. Blinking, he forced his mind to focus.

“The bond,” Charlie started finally, running a hand over his face. “It came back and she was being t-tortured—it—I…I tried to call to her, but the pain knocked me out. I woke up three days later and the bond was gone. I—she was dead…”

He swallowed thickly before clarifying, “I _thought_ she was dead. The Healers couldn’t figure out how I was alive once they read the scans. She shouldn’t have survived…”

“That’d be the Cruciatus,” Bill explained. “They’d been taken to Malfoy Manor by snatchers and Bellatrix had her.”

Charlie cursed, eyes flashing as he recalled his earlier vow. “I’ll kill her—”

“Step in line.” Bill said softly. “I honestly thought she was dead when the elf showed up with her and the others. She was bleeding and shaking, but Fleur was able to get her stable. She’d been under an incredible amount of the curse and Fleur feared we’d lost her to her own mind, but when she woke she could think clearly. Or as clearly as one can think after a few rounds of the Cruciatus.”

Charlie let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding, mind reeling. Flashes from the attack flew across his eyes, settling on the crude cross outside the cottage.

“Who died then?” Charlie asked as he sank back into the couch further. 

“What do you mean?”

“I saw the cross… I’d assumed—”

“Oh,” Bill said, interrupting him. “The elf, Dobby. Bellatrix managed to sink a knife into him as he apparated them out. He died just after they appeared in the yard and Harry buried him.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow at the explanation.

“An odd gesture for an odd elf,” Bill remarked with a shrug.

“You said I’d just missed them. You let them leave?”

Bill rolled his eyes, “You remember what you told me back in August? They had a plan and there was no stopping them.”

“I feel like I should take up the role of your tirade,” Charlie muttered. “But I know how they are. And to be perfectly honest I don’t know that I’m getting up off this couch for a while.”

“And you shouldn’t,” he heard Fleur chastise from the kitchen. He offered a weak smile as he caught bits of her cursing him for traveling in his condition.

Bill watched him then, frowning at his disheveled state. He agreed with his wife’s assessment—Charlie’s face was paler than normal and he had dark circles lining his bloodshot eyes. Bill wasn’t sure if it was a lack of sleep, crying, or a combination of the two. From his brother’s own words about the Healer’s scans he knew that the torture affected him through the bond, but he wondered just how badly. The man in front of him didn’t look fit enough to travel, let alone be discharged from any medical care.

Briefly he wondered if his brother had gone rouge.

In a sharp contrast to Charlie’s health, Hermione had weakness for the first few days after being tortured but after a few rounds of Fleur’s Pepper-up Potion she was seemingly fine. Though he knew better than to assume she was fine, knowing full well how much of a mask she wore like the rest of them.

She’d had some tremors, but she’d had some potion in her little bag that she claimed would help them. He never did get the chance to ask about it, but now watching his younger brother suppress the shaking he wished he had.

“They left with the goblin this morning, talking about breaking into the bank.” Bill spoke finally.

“What?!”

There was a nod, “If it weren’t for the enhanced hearing, I wouldn’t have a clue what they’d planned. They’re bloody mental and once this is all over I’m seriously going to look into getting them all committed.”

“Partnering with a bleeding Goblin and breaking into Gringotts,” Charlie breathed. “I can’t wait for that story.”

Bill offered him a sad laugh, and the two fell into an easy silence as they listened to Fleur move about the kitchen while she prepared the tea. His eyes wondered back to his brother, watching him closely as the dragon keeper’s demeanor relaxed slightly. He was still as broken and exhausted as the moment he appeared in their yard, but there was a flash of hope in his haunted eyes.

“How are you holding up?”

Charlie blinked at him, “Better now that I know she isn’t dead. That they all aren’t dead,” he added hastily.

\---

As the dust settled after the battle he’d found himself sat against the wall outside of the Great Hall. One knee was bent with an arm resting on it, while he’d rested his head against the cool surface of the stone, eyes tracing the arches in the ceiling. The last day had been a blur, starting with him collapsing on his brother’s couch and ending with the death of Voldemort. He was entirely sure that adrenalin was the only thing that kept him going, the only thing keeping his eyes open at that moment.

He knew the orange potion from this morning had nearly worn off once the tremors started. They’d started off subtly, just barely vibrating his fingers. Now his hands were trembling harder, but he couldn’t bring himself to go back in the Great Hall. There were too many people, too many bodies, and too much grief.

He knew his mother would fret over him once she saw him, but his tremors paled in comparison to the lives lost.

The second Voldemort’s body had hit the floor his family had gathered in the hall holding one another, cherishing the fact they’d all made it through the war relatively unscathed. Percy had lost a few fingers on his left hand and Fred had been hit with a mystery curse by Dolohov that Madam Pomphrey seemed to know exactly how to treat. She’d set to work as soon as Ron and George had brought him into the hall, listening as Ron explained the curse they’d seen. He’d be fine, but he had a hell of a long road ahead of him.

There was a sick satisfaction knowing that George had blasted Dolohov from the tower, sending the Death Eater plummeting to a timely death.

George had narrowly missed having his _other_ ear blasted off, and in the rush to dodge the spell fire he’d been knocked down three flights of stairs. He knew Hermione had healed him enough to get him to the Great Hall, but Madam Pomphrey had sent him along to St. Mungo’s with Fred. He’d live, but he had a few bones to regrow and a concussion to deal with.

Ron had a broken arm that his mother had mended before the last wave of the battle had started, and ended the night with a few fractured ribs. He supposed he’d gotten off lightly considering Potter had quite literally died again.

Ginny had narrowly missed the killing curse at the hands of Bellatrix, something he knew would haunt her for a while (because it was going to haunt him for the rest of his life). His not-so-innocent little sister had made a hell of a fight that night, and he felt a surge of pride as she took down Death Eater after Death Eater with that Longbottom kid. For the first time he realized she wasn’t a little girl anymore, and in that moment he felt guilty and remorseful at all the time he’d missed with her—with all of them.

He could have lost any one of them tonight and he’d have missed nearly half their lives.

He’d blinked and suddenly they’d all grown into fierce warriors in the thick of the fight of their lives. It was sobering to him as his mind replayed the green curse skim her shoulder.

Looking back he wasn’t sure who’s curse hit the witch first—his or his mother’s, but he’d let her take the credit. He supposed he ought to feel something about possibly killing another human, but in that moment he couldn’t muster the guilt or shame. Not after what she’d almost done to his sister, and certainly not after what she’d done to Hermione.

He’d grown so numb over the last few days that facing the end of the war was odd. He should be elated that Voldemort was truly dead, but instead he felt as if he were waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Where did he go from here?

There was a shuffle to his right as a body slid to the ground beside him, breaking him from his thoughts. He let his head loll to the side to see who had joined him in the solitude. A smiling face met his eyes, and for a moment he felt his heart clinch. After spending so much time convinced that she was dead, having her sitting beside him sent his mind spinning. He was frozen in place, watching her peer at him curiously.

She reached over and grasped the hand that hadn’t been resting on his knee, gently lacing her fingers with his. Her firm grip eased the shaking, and he was thankful she didn’t question it. Instead she used her free hand to pass a silver vial into his free hand.

“Bill sent me.”

He raised an eyebrow, and examined the potion. “Did he now? Think I need a baby sitter?”

“Considering you look like you’re about to pass out, I have agreed with him.” She replied tersely. “It’ll help the shaking.”

A dry chuckle escaped his lips, “I’ll survive.”

“I’m counting on it,” Hermione responded. She watched him down the potion and rest his head against the wall again. “Because I’m done acting like a Healer. I’ve run out of dittany and am repressing all healing spells from here on out.”

“Guess we’ll cross that off the list of possible careers.”

She nodded, “And an Auror. I know those two will be headlong in that path, but I’ve had my fill of chasing dark wizards.”

“You could tame dragons,” Charlie offered.

“I suppose I do have experience,” She replied thoughtfully.

“Oh?” He said in surprise.

“I did help free the one in Gringotts and ride it through the roof and across the country this morning,” Hermione said easily. “The Goblins probably have a bounty on me right now.”

“Bloody hell,” He breathed. He wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or scared for her.

“And somehow that’s the least impressive thing I’ve done since the wedding.”

“Somehow I don’t doubt that,” Charlie remarked. “You’ll have to fill me in sometime.”

She nodded, “On one condition.”

“Yeah?” He asked curiously.

She took her free hand and dug under her torn and bloodied shirt, pulling out a thin silver chain. With a swift tug the chain snapped and she held the tiny amulet out to him.

“Forgive me?”

Charlie’s eyes fell to the amulet in her outstretched hand. Gingerly he grabbed it as the familiar warmth spread through his chest. He couldn’t explain how it felt—how complete the bond made him feel. Bill had been right, not that he’d ever admit it out loud, that everything had _changed_. He felt whole again.

It was comforting how the magic of the bond flowed through him, spreading throughout his body in an instant. He wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry, and instead settled on relishing in the renewed connection. He felt her magic in the bond, comforting his already shot nerves.

Oh how he’d missed it. How he’d missed her.

**_Always._ **

**_H_ ** **_ow long?_ **

**** _I suspected after you were gloating about your accolades Mr. I-Was-Recruited-Before-I-Graduated. Ron mentioned it at least a dozen or so times after Harry took your spot our first year. I definitely put it together once you told me you were a Gryffindor, but really I didn’t need that to confirm my suspicions._

_Plus the constant burns meant you were either rubbish with potions or you were constantly in a line of fire, literally._

He chuckled beside her, squeezing her hand. She’d known longer than he had. He’d really only put it together after their conversation that Christmas, though the thought had briefly crossed his mind at their first conversation when she’d been moaning about Dolohov. If Dolohov hadn’t been known for being an active Death Eater, he probably wouldn’t have ruled her out so quickly.

Their conversation from that Christmas swirled in his head then, wondering how she’d felt talking to him knowing who he was while he hadn’t made the connection yet. A realization struck him then and he turned his body towards her.

**_So wait—when you said I didn’t know any—you were testing me with that story about Ginny?!_ **

_Oh, it wasn’t a test. She really did that, and I thought it’d be funny if my hunch paid off. I can’t say I’m disappointed with the results. She’ll skin me later, but it was worth it. I kind of hoped you slip up then, but you took it in stride._

_I was impressed._

Charlie let out an honest laugh then. Hermione found herself laughing too as she laid her head against his shoulder.

“I missed this,” he said as he pressed a kiss to her head. “I didn’t know how much I’d miss it, but Merlin did I.”

“I did too,” she admitted. “It was so hard to keep the amulet on. I wanted so badly to take it off and just talk to you, but with how close we were to Voldemort—”

“You don’t have to justify it to me,” Charlie said softly. “I get it, and you can explain your time on the run later. Let’s just enjoy the peace for now.”

_Thank you._

\---

They’d laid Tonks and Remus to rest that morning before returning to the Burrow for a small gathering. She watched Harry and Ginny take Teddy down to the pond to give Andromeda a moment to herself.

Beside her Charlie wrapped an arm around her shoulder and steered her towards the rock wall of the garden. “I’ve got Firewhiskey in a flask if you are interested.”

Hermione nodded, “It’ll do in a pinch.”

“I thought you were a fan of whiskey?”

“Muggle whiskey is better,” She stated as if it were obvious.

“Nonsense,” Charlie reasoned as they took a seat on the wall. He took a quick swig from the flask before passing it to her.

She rolled her eyes and took a quick sip, grimacing as it went down her throat. “Honestly it just tastes like gun powder and ashes.”

Charlie shook his head and took another swig, refusing to admit she was right about the taste.

“Let me make you a drink with muggle whiskey and then you can decide.” Hermione offered. “And honestly, if you wanted something with a kick I can pick up some Fireball.”

“Fireball?”

“Cinnamon whiskey, which I presume is what _that_ is supposed to taste like.” She replied pointing to the flask.

“I’ll be honest, I have no clue what it’s supposed to taste like. It’s just good to unwind with,” Charlie admitted with a sad smile.

**_How are you doing?_ **

_I’m alright, but I could ask the same to you. I know you and Tonks were close at Hogwarts._

**_We were, and it’s odd to think she’s not here. It doesn’t seem quite real that she was married with a child one day and gone the next. We were at such different points in life, even though we were both twenty-five._ **

_It all seems surreal you know, that the war is over and most of the Death Eaters have been rounded up. I’ve spent the last seven years of my life fighting in some way._

_What do we do now?_

**_I honestly don’t know. I’ve been thinking the same. How do we just go back to normal?_ **

_I don’t even know what normal is._

**_Neither do I, but we’ll figure it out together won’t we, Ms. They-Don’t-Call-Me-The-Brightest-Witch-of-Her-Age-For-Nothing?_ **

\---

_What are your plans?_

**_For?_ **

_Going back to Romania. Your mum’s in here fretting about trying to plan a way to lure you into the cellar to lock you away._

**_Oh sweet Merlin._ **

She felt his amusement and had to hide the smirk from the Weasley matron as she furiously chopped vegetables for the roast.

**_I don’t know. They gave me a sabbatical and I didn’t exactly hash out any details before I took off._ **

_Rushing into things must be a family trait._

**_To be fair I was a bit preoccupied._ **

_With?_

**_That’s a story for another day, one where preferably we are in the same room far from prying eyes._ **

_Oh?_

**_Trust me._ **

_I do—as much as I trust your mother to lace your dinner with sleeping potions. She keeps eyeing the potions cupboard you know._

The groan didn’t have to past through their bond for her to hear it.

**_I’m almost done with the Twins at the shop. Bill and I will be back soon—don’t let her get into the stash._ **

_Too late—oh look at her go! That’s quite a dose she just measured out. You’ll be asleep for a week._

**_Wench._ **

_Prat._

She was pulled from their banter when someone cleared their throat beside her. “Got a minute?” Ginny asked her.

Hermione nodded and pointed towards the door. Ginny followed her outside and into the small shed. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted privacy, but I was feeling a bit threatened by the way your mum was chopping those carrots.”

Ginny laughed, “She knows that we’ll all be leaving the nest soon and she’s a bit on edge.”

“Oh, moving on in with my best friend, are we?”

Ginny didn’t even have the decency to blush. “It’s the least he could do, you know.”

“Yes, I do.” Hermione admitted. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

“Oh you know,” Ginny started, donning her ‘I’m innocent and don’t pay attention to what I’m about to do’ face. “Just wondering if you’d had any luck with that bond of yours. You did say you’d come clean once you the war was over.”

Hermione blushed, “…I did.”

“And I had the most bizarre talk with my lovely, dragon taming brother about brooms this morning…”

Hermione bit her lip, “Gin—”

“If you weren’t bonded with him I’d hex you into next week.”

She lost it then, dissolving into a fit of giggles.

**_What the hell has you so giddy? It better not be another one of mum’s plans._ **

_Your sister just let me in on a talk you two had._

**_Oh. Ohhh. Well uh, fuck. Good luck, this was fun while it lasted._ **

_You aren’t even going to help me?_

**_I don’t have a death wish, no._ **

Ginny cleared her throat. “Tell my brother to shove off, please.”

_Ginny says to tell you to shove off. You’re going down with me._

**_What the hell did I do to get roped into this?_ **

“Gin, look—”

Her friends face broke and she too began to laugh, “Damn it. I wanted to keep this going!”

“You aren’t mad?” Hermione asked between giggles.

“No because the look on his face was so priceless. He came and congratulated me on the offer from the Harpies and I told him I couldn’t have done it without him. He was so confused so I elaborated about flying and he threw you under the bus so fast.” Ginny wiped a tear from her eye. “He looked like he wanted to yell at me, but he was also terrified that I’d hex him, and then he realized by throwing you under the bus that he’d admitted to the bond.”

“It’s not exactly a secret,” Hermione said in his defense. “We honestly haven’t even talked about telling anyone. I’m pretty sure Bill and Fleur know, though that’s because they had to patch up his arm after the Manor. Fleur told me about it after the battle ended.”

Talk of the Manor sobered up the red head. “I thought your amulet stopped that?”

“It did, when I was wearing it. Bellatrix ripped it off while torturing me. Harry grabbed it when Dobby rescued us and put it back on me while Fleur fixed up my arm. He knew how important it was for me to wear it, especially if Bellatrix had bothered to look at the ruins.”

“Did she?”

Hermione shrugged, “If she did, she didn’t act on it.”

Ginny hummed and opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by a distant crack. The sudden noise startled them both, and Ginny peered out of the shed with her wand aimed at the source of the sound. Hermione peered out beside her and listened as Ginny let out a mischievous cackle.

Before she could question her friend, Ginny shot a bright red hex towards Charlie and Bill as they crossed into the boundary line of the wards. It missed widely, though Hermione was betting that was on purpose. Charlie yelped and pulled himself behind Bill, who for his part was trying to shove his brother away.

“Oi, I’m not in this!” Bill shouted, giving his brother a solid shove. He took off in a sprint towards the shed, leaving Charlie alone and an easy target.

Charlie raised his hands in defeat, “Listen—”

“Let that be a warning,” Ginny said innocently.

“Thank Merlin,” He muttered as he crossed the yard to pull her into a hug. “I regret teaching you that hex, for what it’s worth.”

“As you should,” Ginny replied as she poked him with her wand.

“Damn it!” He exclaimed as a jolt of magic shocked him. Hermione chuckled as a dull pulse pricked her side in the same spot that Ginny had hit her brother.

_Honestly you should have known better._

**_Not a word._ **

_How about two words?_

**_I’ve got two words for you._ **

\---

It had been two weeks since the last of the funerals and she found herself at a crossroad. Technically she found herself curled under a tree by the pond behind the Burrow, soaking up the warmth of the July evening. She’d received two letters earlier in the day, one giving her the supply list for Hogwarts if she chose to finish her education, and one with a meeting time with Kinglsey at the Ministry to discuss possible career options.

If you’d have asked her at sixteen what she should do, she’d have said finishing her schooling without question.

But now it seemed like a waste of time to sit in classrooms, learning and studying to kill herself over a few test scores. It seemed so insignificant considering the war she’d just fought in.

Part of her wanted the completion, but a bigger part of her knew she couldn’t go back. She couldn’t stand in those halls where she’d seen so many die.

At the meeting with Kinglsey she knew he’d offer her the chance to sit for the NEWT’s like the rest of the sixth and seventh years that had been affected by the war, but at the moment she couldn’t talk herself into doing it. What could her NEWT scores show that her year on the run, hunting horcruxes and performing extraordinary magic couldn’t?

Which left her at the current conundrum: what next?

She’d spent her entire teenage years working against an oppressive regime and now that it was finally over it seemed almost anticlimactic. There was no profound sense of accomplishment. People had been hurt, people had died. People with their whole lives ahead of them, never getting the opportunities she currently faced.

The pressure to pick a worthwhile career was daunting.

**_You think too much._ **

His words floated in her mind before she felt him sit beside her. Instinctively she leant against him, lacing her fingers in his.

“I can’t help it.” She replied honestly.

“I know,” he said simply. “You shouldn’t worry though; whatever you choose you’ll be fantastic at.”

“Don’t stroke my ego to pacify me.”

“I may be stroking your ego, but I only speak the truth. You’ve always been well accomplished, why would that change now?”

“I accomplished a lot because I had an end goal: keep Harry and Ron alive, don’t die, and defeat Voldemort.”

“My Arithmancy NEWT tells me that that was three goals, not one.” He replied cheekily.

She swatted at his arm, “You know what I meant! I just don’t have a clear goal at the moment.”

“Do you need one? Why not take some time to yourself? You certainly deserve it,” He replied pointedly.

“I don’t know what that even means,” she replied with an eye roll. “Time for myself, honestly.”

He chuckled, “Is that such a bad idea?”

“No,” Hermione said honestly. “But I don’t know the first thing about relaxing and I’m afraid I’d go insane without working towards something.”

“So work towards healing from the war,” Charlie replied as if it were obvious.

Hermione chewed on her lip, “I _suppose_ that’s a good goal.”

Charlie smiled at her smugly.

“Or I could take that meeting with Kinglsey and pitch my idea for re-integrating muggleborns back into society and setting up a better method of acclimating muggleborns into the wizarding world.”

**_You really can’t stop, can you?_ **

_No, I really can’t._

“That’s a really good idea,” He said aloud. “And long overdue, if I’m being honest.”

“Speaking of overdue, do you want to hear about our prolonged camping trip?”

“Are you ready for it?”

She nodded, “Yes. Well honestly no, but I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to talk about what we did.”

They spoke for what felt like hours. The sun had long set over the horizon, allowing the glow of the moon to light the scene around them. She told him of what Dumbledore had left for them, explaining the horcrux hunt and just how awful they truly were and how incredibly hard it was to be on the run with one strapped to her neck. She glossed over Ron leaving, partially because it was still raw to her and partially because she wasn’t sure how he’d react.

Though the dull anger that pulsed in the bond told her that he wasn’t pleased about it.

“I don’t blame him,” She said softly when she felt his anger. “Not really.”

“That’s why you are a better human than I,” Charlie remarked with a frown.

_The horcruxes prey on your weaknesses and use them against you. It penetrates your thoughts and breaks you down until you’re weak enough to be possessed._

**_And you willingly walked around with it?_ **

_We had to, to make sure we kept it safe enough to destroy it. We took turns, but as time wore on and we still couldn’t figure out how to destroy them it started to break us down. I’m positive if I hadn’t numbed our bond that he’d known in an instant, and I think he may have been able to use it to track us._

_Or at the very least hurt us._

**_Then I’m lucky I bonded with the brightest witch of her age, aren’t I?_ **

She nudged him in the ribs with her elbow, barely suppressing an eye roll.

_Don’t be too hard on him—he came back after all._

**_He shouldn’t have left in the first place._ ** ****

_No, but I understand why he did. He felt like we were closing him out because of what the locket was telling him. Do you know his biggest fear?_

**_Spiders._ **

Hermione chuckled, _Fine, his second biggest fear?_

**_No, but I have this funny feeling you do._ **

_He’s constantly afraid he’ll never outgrow the shadows of his six siblings. He’s got a curse breaking former Head Boy with a stupid amount of NEWTS, a highly recruited Prefect who tames Dragons and also had a stupid amount of NEWTS—_

**_And here I thought you were an academic._ **

“Hush you,” Hermione giggled out loud. “And then you have Percy who is every bit of an academic who had that coveted Ministry job that your mum moans about. Plus the twins who are incredibly gifted in their own rights and were highly successful entrepreneur’s by age nineteen.”

“And then you have Ginny,” Charlie finished for her. “The girl my mum prayed for who had all her older siblings around her little finger from day one. Coincidently, she’s the same girl who is one of the best quidditch players to go through Hogwarts. Myself excluded.” He added the last part with a smirk.

_You’re insufferable._

Charlie gave her a wink and she flicked his ear before settling back against his arm.

“Ron’s never really realized his own talents, and I think he was terrified that he was going to get lost in the shuffle again, even though we desperately needed him on the hunt. I won’t lie and say I wasn’t hurt—I was furious with him, and had Harry not kept my wand from me I’d probably have hexed him into a puddle.”

**_He’d deserve it, but I’ll honor your request and not give him a hard time. It won’t be an easy time, but it won’t be a hard time._ **

_I’d expect nothing less, honestly._

Hermione continued her tale, telling him of how they’d skirted snatchers and escaped from a possessed Bathilda Bagshot on Christmas Eve. Of how Ron and Harry had came across the sword and destroyed the locket before coming back to the tent. She made a good show of exactly how badly she’d hit him before Harry threw up a shield to calm her down.

His amusement and pride were not lost on her.

Her story continued as she told him of narrowly escaping from the Lovegood house only to trip the taboo and be whisked to the Malfoy Manor. She was brutally honest about the torture, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to hide any of it from him. Not with the bond, and not with him experiencing the last bit with her.

“I think the bond is what saved me,” She said quietly as she let him absorb her tale. “I think you pulled some of the curse to you, keeping it from turning me into Neville’s parents. It would explain how badly you were affected and why my tremors aren’t as bad.”

He squeezed her hand, “I was terrified. I tried calling to you, you know. The last thing I could think of was to throw my magic at the bond in case I could pull you to me or something. I honestly don’t know what I expected to happen, but I had to try something before passing out.”

“I thought so.” Hermione replied quietly, brows knit together as her mind flashed through the memories. The bond burned then as her emotions spiked. Charlie pulled her into a closer embrace, willing the bond to calm for her.

With a deep breath she continued, “At the time I thought I was trying to keep my sanity, but when Harry told me later that she’d taken the necklace off I figured it was you. He’s the one that put it back on once we got to Shell Cottage.”

“So that’s why the bond was gone when I came to,” Charlie replied as his mind made the connections. “I wondered how that worked out when you handed it to me after the battle.”

_How long were you out?_

**_Three days, according to the healers._ **

He felt her shame through the bond. “Don’t think about apologizing.” His voice was gentle, but she could feel the warning in them. “If a little discomfort was enough to keep you from dying then I’d do it a thousand times over.”

She scoffed, “I hardly think that qualifies as a little discomfort. You were shaking after the battle.”

“Shaking I can handle, you being dead I can’t.” He said simply.

**_I was convinced you were dead, you know. Truly convinced. When I arrived to the Cottage the morning of the battle I…I lost it. I saw that cross and I just assumed—_ **

_I—_

**_Don’t apologize. Please._ **

_I can’t help but feel horrible. If Harry hadn’t put the amulet back on you would’ve known I was alive at least._

**_Hermione, I don’t blame you for any of this. I meant it when I said I’d take that torture a thousand times over if it meant keeping you alive. I can deal with a cursed scar the same as you._ **

**_Besides, nothing’s to say he wouldn’t have used the bond against you, especially if that hag bothered to look at the necklace she ripped from you. He was right to put it back on._ **

_Harry was convinced she knew and that’s why he was adamant about getting it back on me before Fleur had even healed my arm._

**_Does he know?_ **

_Yes. After Ron left us I was a mess. I’d lost one of my best friends, I’d lost my parents, and I’d lost both you and the bond, and Harry thought I was upset because I loved Ron. Which, I mean I do love him. As a brother. I just felt like everything was falling apart then._

_We had a lot of late-night talks, and he helped me keep my sanity._

**_What happened to your parents_ **

He felt her tense beside him for a moment. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and pressed a kiss to her head much like he’d done in the castle after the battle.

“Only Harry knows,” She began quietly, eyes focusing on the pond in front of them. “I had to get them out of the country and keep them safe, so I modified their memories and gave them a new identity. They moved to Australia and opened a new dental practice, completely unaware they were leaving behind a seventeen year old dau—” her voice broke off as a sob escaped her throat.

Charlie pulled her into a tight embrace for the second time that night, comforting her as she sobbed.

**_I can’t imagine how hard that was._ **

_It might be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. They’ll never know about me, but I couldn’t risk it. The Death Eaters had burned the house down a week before we broke into the Ministry. They would have tortured them and killed them to try and get information about us. They’d never stand a chance against a Death Eater._

_Besides I was a coveted prize in their circle. Greyback was nearly salivating as Bellatrix promised me to him._

She felt his anger through the bond, and she bit back the tears.

_I was at the top of the list beside Harry and Ron, and I know they would have stopped at nothing to get to any of us if it meant securing a victory for Voldemort. Especially given my dirty blood._

**_Your blood isn’t dirty._ **

_Besides,_ she continued, ignoring him. _If I died it would be a hell of a lot easier on them. They never really understood this war, and I know they wouldn’t understand a wizard coming to their door to tell them I died in a war they couldn’t comprehend. It wouldn’t be fair to them._

**_What about fair to you?_ **

_I learned to stop thinking about what is fair to me a while ago._

**_Hermione—_ **

_I know, it’s not exactly healthy. You should know I don’t have a track record of healthy habits._

**_We’ll work on it._ **

_We will, will we?_

**_Yes. No amulet to keep me away this time._ **

_I think I can still fashion something up you know._

**_I’ll just rip it off._ **

**\---**

“Charles Septimus Weasley!” His mum shouted across the house causing him to grimace. He hadn’t even properly stepped through the Floo before she was shouting at him. Mentally he ticked off a list of possible things he’d done to tick her off, wondering which secret she’d stumbled upon while he’d been in London that morning.

_Septimus?_

He could feel her giggling.

**_Family name._ **

_It’d have to be, a name like that._

**_Think this is funny, do you?_ **

_Very much so._

“Yes mum?” He called back as she made her way into the family room.

“Why am I finding out from the _Minister_ that you accepted a job at the _Ministry_?!” She demanded, hands on her hips. Her glare burned through him, and for a moment he wondered how quickly he could floo away before she cursed him.

Charlie swallowed, eyes wide. Slowly he held his hands up, trying to find his words to get him out of trouble.

_CHARLES SEPTIMUS WEASELY!_

He let out a slow breath as he winced at Hermione’s words echoing in his mind. “Uh, well...”

His words were cut off by his mother pulling him into a crushing hug. The air left his lungs, leaving him sputtering.

“You’re coming home!” Molly exclaimed in his ear. She let out a loud squeal before squeezing her second eldest even harder.

“Yes,” He said as he pulled himself out of her grip. He spotted his bondmate behind his mother, standing on the last step with her hands on her hips, donning a stern glare. He barely kept the similarity to his mother from going out across the bond, not wanting to add fuel to the fire.

Instead he offered her a sheepish smile and winced a second time as his mother squeezed his arms with a vice grip. “Kinglsey asked me to lead up the newly formed Reserve branch under the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Apparently they’ve got a mess on their hands after the last regime and he wanted someone familiar with Dragon Reserves to lead the charge clean things up in that regard.”

He could have sworn he heard Hermione cursing about Umbridge. He shot her an amused look to which she rolled her eyes.

“Oh this calls for a celebration,” Molly exclaimed, unaware of their silent communication. She gave him another crushing hug before bouncing into the kitchen.

Hermione’s gaze softened only slightly as his mother left them.

**_Surprise?_ **

_I’ll be asking Ginny for pointers on that Bat Bogey Hex._

**_Look, I was going to tell you._ **

_Oh?_

**_Yes, before tonight’s family dinner. I was going to tell them all tonight._ **

_Really?_

**_Yes. I literally left that meeting an hour ago and I have no idea how mum—_ **

His train of thought stopped cold as the realization hit him. With a groan he pinched the bridge of his nose.

**_Oh she’s good._ **

**_She’s really fucking good._ **

Hermione’s face bloomed into a smile as Charlie’s laughter met her ears.

_She got her way and didn’t even need the sleeping potions. Such a shame, I think keeping you tied up in the cellar could have been fun._

**_Think about tying me up a lot?_ **

She shot him a wink.

_Constantly._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it, my addition to the HG/CW rare pair that admittedly does little justice to the tag but oh well. I hope at least one of you enjoyed this mess I've managed. I know they're a bit OOC but to be honest I couldn't be bothered to edit it anymore in fear that I'd lose the courage to post (you should see the graveyard of fics that will never see the light of day).

**Author's Note:**

> Part two is done and should be up shortly. It's a heavier dose of angst if I'm being honest, so strap in.
> 
> Also, cross-posting on FFnet if any of you see it there.


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